


Think about gelato

by papermoney



Series: all the way from the east coast [2]
Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermoney/pseuds/papermoney
Summary: A secret weekend together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So the short predecessor to this fic can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8732188), and _this_ fic is about the rather ambiguous weekend referenced at the end of it. Laurie is aged up in both, and I hope anyone bothered by RPF with these tags will either backbutton or see it as innocuous shippy fun. Thanks for clicking! ♥

Val checks his watch for the hundredth time; it's almost time to go pick up Laurie.  
  
The amount of preparation that's gone into something that used to be as easy and familiar as his favorite shoes is insane: he got a carefully timed haircut last week so it'd look neat but not new, and a lot of effort went into making everything else about him look effortless.  
  
It's so weird. He's _nervous._  
  
For years they've been augmenting their online mutual admiration with paper mail, and months ago he wrote a little overture about meeting up in New York. He made a throwaway comment about Laurie in a beret, so of course she showed up with a red one crammed over the irresistible asymmetry of her hair. They did their usual: ate, took a bunch of pictures, and intermittently burst into song until the ten minute lull walking through Central Park where they didn't say anything at all, and he pulled her into the curved shadow of Bridge 28 and kissed her. Like really laid one on her after two years of planting them in harmless locations like the affectionate friend he was. It lasted only a minute and only happened once but...something changed. Their correspondence got flirtier, dreams got weirder, and his LA apartment got cleaner once she named the date she'd come to see him.  
  
Six weeks of long-distance teasing and innuendo and they're going to be in the same car in under twenty minutes.  
  
The tentative plan is to "hang out," but he has no idea what she expects or wants.  
  
He has even less idea what  _he_ expects or wants because it all hinges on her, but he feels giddy and silly and takes a cross-eyed selfie and sends it to Maks to show Shai. _Tell my tiny button I love him._  
  
He makes it to the tangled nightmare of an airport just after her plane touches down. He said he'd circle the loop until he finds her and she said she'd text a photo of her outfit, but instead he gets blurry one of her making a godawful face reminiscent of their whale noise phase. He texts back a single word.

 

**Nice.**

 

_I'm wearing all black_

 

**so is everybody  
**

 

_omg u ass FIND ME  
_

 

 A few impatient loops later, he sees her stretching herself taller to look for him and her arm flaps like mad when they finally lock eyes. The traffic's too thick to stop and open her door for her like he should, and she flings her bag in the back and lands in the seat with a giant smile.  
  
"Nug!"  
  
"Hey!" The sensory overload is so welcome: sight, touch, sound, smell. Some element of her hair regime's always smelled fresh and fruity and he pauses for a great big noseful.  
  
"It's so good to see you!" He's triple-parked but still steals a minute for another deep sniff. "You always smell like a smoothie."  
  
"It's 'cause I'm so smooth!"  
  
"Ugh. This is gonna be a long ass weekend," he groans playfully, and looks over his shoulder to slowly re-enter the maze.  
  
"So," Laurie says. "I've got a hotel downtown but I want to see your place. So like...maybe we could swing by so I can check in and get the key and stuff."  
  
Well that settles that, but it's not a disappointment. It's a joy she's even here, and gratitude squeezes at his heart as they fall back into the easy back-and-forth they've always had. Ordinarily the level of traffic might annoy him but it's good because it's more time with her, and it tickles him how amazing her everyday talk is. He asks what's new and she says, "Harper Collins wants me and Simone to write a kids' book together. About ourselves."

"Like how you train so much you call your friend Val at five AM 'cause that's the only time you can fit it in?"

"That only happened once! And no, they want us to be superheroes but I don't like it framed that way 'cause we aren't better than anyone and we can do good just being ourselves."

"That's so you. I love it."

The drive to her hotel goes by like a flash; he pulls up front and she pops out. "Okay, wait here and I'll be right back."  
  
"Oh. Shit." Val mashes a finger on the button to roll down the passenger window. "Laurie! You want your bag?"  
  
"Nah," she waves him off. "I'll get it later."  
  
He waits and wonders what her room's like, but soon enough she tumbles back into her seat, happy fruit scent and all. "Okay. Show me where you live."

It's not far and they shift into a new gear, like the visit's taken on a whole new color. A nameless momentum makes them talk faster, click tighter. "I wanna see Erin this weekend."

"You will."

"Yay. And I sorta care about the Steelers again this year, so we should watch some of the game tomorrow."

Could she be any more perfect? "Sounds good to me."

"It's funny that of all the time we've spent together out here I've never seen your place."

It's in an unspectacular complex, but he actually likes the compressed closeness of the underground garage and the units upstairs because it reminds him of home. It's been a practical investment but he's not that attached to it; especially now that it's getting to the late point in the season where all he wants to do is go _home_ -home.  
  
"How secure is this garage?" Laurie asks when they park.

"It's safe, I guess, but you never know. Why?"

"Maybe I should bring my bag up. Just in case."

"Yeah, okay. No, no, let me get it for you."

"Why thank you, sir."

They make faces at each other in the mirrored elevator and Val gets out his key. "There's one of those plug-in things in the hallway that smells like cookies and I've never been able to catch the person who refills it."

"Don't you think it's the condo association or whatever?

"No, because it's only on this floor. I've checked. Isn't that weird?"

"Yes. Mm, cookies."

"Okay, get ready to be underwhelmed," he says, and unlocks his front door.

"Oh, shut up. It's nice!"

He thought they might come here at some point, so he bought a huge dish of flowers to make the table he rarely sits at look less empty. It looks a little try-hard against all the bachelor gray, and Laurie notices them but is far more interested in the framed photo of him and Maks sitting on the Potemkin Steps two days before they left Odessa.  
  
"Oh my God. You're so cute!" It's true; everyone who lays eyes on that grainy old picture loves it - Maks is dark-eyed and stoic with his arm around Val, who leans into him with a buoyant smile. "Your brother doesn't look too happy."  
  
"He wasn't. He was king shit at his school and didn't want to leave."  
  
"You look happy, though. Were you?"  
  
"Yeah." He stands beside her and looks at it fondly. "I can't believe the balls on my parents, packing us up and starting over like that. They were so brave. Like I probably still think about that at least once a week."  
  
"Hm. That's sweet." She rounds the kitchen and ignores the pewter bowl of perfect fruit that he re-arranged probably ten times because she's drawn to the pictures of Shai on the refrigerator. "Oh my God," she says. "He's adorable."  
  
"Yeah, he's the best. I love him so much and my brother loves him a thousand times more than _that,_ which doesn't even seem possible." He looks over the collage proudly. "Tiny button."  
  
"Aw." She points to the one of Val holding a big stock pot with Shai tucked in it. "Cuteness."  
  
"That was all his idea."  
  
"Sure it was."  
  
Her nails are a spacey aqua shot through with gold threads like cosmic marble. He means to comment on that later and taps record on his phone as he follows her around.  
  
"I like your view. And it's nice that you can't hear the traffic at all." She's shy and tentative, but turns and notices the phone. "Don't. Val, I'm serious, don't!" He whips it behind his back and her struggle to get at it is as futile as their old arm wrestling competitions. "Don't!" He laughs and she burns a ton of energy ducking and grabbing while he mostly just stands there. "Promise you won't post anything of us this weekend."  
  
Their height difference feels about the same but she looks different. More cheekbone and less cheek, maybe? "Why not?"  
  
"Because we both spend way to much time on our phones already and I don't want to waste a minute of this weekend. And above that, it's private and I don't want the whole world knowing our business. Come on! Please. Don't." Her eyes are like fire, and it's rare but shocking that she looks _mean._  
  
"Okay," he says loosely, and sharp little kick nips his shin. "Okay! I won't!"  
  
It takes a minute to believe him and she continues her self-guided tour down the narrow hallway, backing into the bedroom with flappy jazz hands. "Is this where all the magic happens?"  
  
"I don't know. Define magic."  
  
The jazz hands recede to a demure clasp behind her back as she looks it all over...it's neat, but not perfect and Val's suddenly behind her, nose in her hair and a shy part of her needs to re-learn him again. "Do you keep all my letters?"  
  
"Of course I do. Look in that nightstand drawer. In the wooden box"  
  
Laurie beams because he keeps blanks already stamped and addressed to her alongside it. "That's really sweet."  
  
"Wanna re-read yours?"  
  
"No way. They're probably embarrassing."  
  
"Not true. They're high art." He sits down and lays back with the box on his chest, plucking out a random envelope. "Dear Val. Greetings from Montreal. I stubbed my toe like you wouldn't believe."  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
"...like so bad it's turning black and I'm probably gonna lose the nail."  
  
"So gross. Like...why."  
  
"...but a problem shared is a problem halved, so that's why I'm telling you. Also, certain behavior makes me think you're a perv who likes feet so enjoy the new material. Love, L. Nug. P.S. That's my new rap name." He folds and tucks the letter back in its envelope. "Your rap career never took off like I expected."  
  
"Yeah, well neither did yours."  
  
He smiles, unoffended, and looks for the one sealed with a Chiquita banana sticker because it's one of the best. "Here." He scoots over and invites her to take the room he's made and they pick through the contents of the box together, reading the funny ones out loud and silently re-living some of the others.  
  
It isn't weird lying next to each other, not even when they finish the letters and he laces their hands and kisses the back of hers a hundred times like he used to. A warm bar of sunlight from the window touches his back when he shifts to kiss her on the mouth; nothing huge, but she gently opens it up and they pull back with slow, dazed blinks.

It's probably too early for this.

"When are we seeing Erin?"

"Yeah. Um." Val pulls himself away from her, on the same page. "We're having lunch with her tomorrow. I said you have limited time so only a few of us know you're here and she promised not to tell anybody."  
  
"What about today?"  
  
"I thought we could go to the Getty and then out to dinner. Maybe back here, if you want."  
  
It'd seemed far too much to hope for but she'd sure as hell made sure her bag was on his floor.  
  
*  
On the drive to the museum, Laurie dons Jackie O sunglasses that are a bit too big for her face. She keeps them on even in the parking garage and when they board the little steel tram that will carry them up the hill.

They're the first ones on and Val puts a hand on her knee, relishing these little everyday luxuries he's missed. "The whole reason for this thing," he explains, waving his free hand in the air. "Is theft prevention. It's the only way up and the only way down, so there's no such thing as a fast getaway."

"That's smart."

Voices of another couple float up the walkway and Laurie re-crosses her legs to displace his hand, but Val puts it back on. "Don't do that in front of other people."  
  
"Okay," he says nonchalantly, and burrows it _under_ her knee.  
  
"Stop! I'm serious."  
  
"What is all this?" he asks gently. She looks like an adorable bug in her glasses, but this new paranoia is worrisome and not like her at all.  
  
"I don't want us ending up on Entertainment Tonight or somebody's Instagram."  
  
Val sees only minimal downside to that, but when the other couple boards he puffs himself up and shifts so they won't see Laurie past his shoulders. "Can you see them now?"

"No."

"So they probably can't see you. The nice thing about coming here is that everybody's looking at the art so nobody notices you. I used to come up here a lot when I had no ideas."  
  
"How? Like I don't see how you could get ideas from art that doesn't move."  
  
"I'll show you."

They make a quick pass through the manicured gardens, and the complex itself is bright white, with modern buildings housing the old masters. They travel the galleries slowly at first, reading every description but then become a little more selective because they'll be there for days at that rate.

"So, show me how you get ideas," Laurie says.  
  
"Okay, so look at this." Val takes her hand and leads her over to a great big Magnasco. "Look at all the movement in that, there's light but there's doom at the same time. Or this guy's arm, like the angle and intent. I could use that in a dance, or like...okay, see the forced perspective in that painting over there?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"That could be good for a set. Um..."  There's Aurora and Tithonus. "See those colors?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You can tell she's a goddess, right? But he's grounded on earth because of the yellow."  
  
"She's so bright he can't even look at her."  
  
"Yeah." He stands behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder as they take in the old man, his young wife. "There's a lot of good stuff up here."  
  
About every other gallery is devoid of people and they start using the privacy to dance. She keeps her thigh tight against his, feet sharp and quick, then fluid and soft when he steers her that way. She somehow remembers everything he's ever taught her. A family of four is in a similar orbit of the collection and the smallest kid notices them and peeps around corners, hoping to see more.  
  
"We have a little audience."  
  
"Yes we do."  
  
"Maybe we should show her the tango velcro lift."  
  
Laurie's heart jumps. "Yeah! We should!"  Pure giddiness carbonates her from the inside while they wait for another opportunity. Every masterpiece is wasted on her; Val teases her with a halfhearted hook and is probably thinking the steps as much as she's dying to do them.  
  
The next room in their clockwise art crawl has paintings and a few pillars holding period china under glass. Laurie thinks it was all talk until Val comes at her like a charging bull; it's instinct to put a hand on his chest, and they pick up the old pattern, spinning in a spiral of love and hate. "I love it when you sweat. Is that weird that I think it smells good?"    
  
"Probably. But lucky for me."  
  
"For both of us," she says, and she's rushed backwards so fast she forgets to breathe.  
  
The little kid notices them. The brother notices, too, and Val's just bringing her down off that great big post-lift kick when a docent with five inches and seventy pounds on him steps into the gallery with folded arms.  
  
"Y'all are very good but I need to ask you to stop."  
  
"We're sorry," Val says.  
  
"I'm sure you are," the docent says tiredly. "But take it elsewhere. We can't have you kicking over the collection."  
  
"Yes sir," Laurie says. "Sorry. And thank you."  
  
Val takes her hand and they giggle, then feel embarrassed, then laugh out loud once they're outside, sunlight bouncing off all the white travertine and into their eyes.  
  
"It's a good thing we got off easy," Laurie says. "We could've been thrown in museum jail. We had it coming! We had it coming! We only ha-"  
  
Val shakes his head. "I fuckin' love you! Like...this shit could only happen with us."

What a sweet little smirk. "I know, right?"

They get the downhill tram all to themselves and Laurie crosses one leg over the other plus one of Val's so the angle turns her toward him. Arms ring around his neck and she melts against him with a happy sigh. "I love that dance."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"I especially love that it got us thrown out of a museum." He kisses her forehead and squeezes her leg.  
  
"You've come a long way with it. Like if you think about learning it, and then how much better it got on tour."  
  
"Remember that time you kicked the chair so hard it, like, fell apart?"  
  
He smiles softly, and also recalls Sharna guessing over drinks that it was from left-field sexual frustration since she got it with James sometimes, and Val whispered in her ear like a Corleone: _You will never repeat that to anyone ever._  
  
Laurie's other leg's moved and she's somehow slid halfway into his lap. "Do we have to go out? Maybe we could stay in  & you could make whatever that thing is that you're good at. What was it? Chicken caesar?"  
  
"Nah. I don't make those anymore. Now I'm all about the deep chicken caesar."  
  
"Why's it called that?"  
  
He pauses for drama. "It's got a lot more chicken on it," he says, and Laurie's biggest laugh rings out like a bell.

"I want it! Let's do that instead."  
  
"Um..." He thinks what's in the fridge. "I need a lemon. And anchovies." Fuck, and romaine and parm and chicken, too.  
  
Her nose crinkles. "Can you make it without anchovies?"  
  
"No, because it won't taste right. But I promise you won't notice 'em."  
  
"Okay." She squeezes closer and Val wishes the downhill grind was twice as long because he can feel her breath against his throat, up until she starts dropping tiny kisses along his jawline, then moving up to his mouth and kissing him so hard their teeth click when the tram stops.

"Ha ha."

There's a new electricity between them that snaps and pulses in the car, although he loses Laurie two steps inside the grocery store because there's a gelato bar up front and she's naturally drawn to the rectangles of whipped pastel.  
  
"It's all so pretty! I gotta get something. And then that way nobody'll see us together."  
  
Her reluctance to be seen with him feels normal now. "Okay. Meet you up front in a few."  
  
He collects all the stuff in a wire basket, pays, and finds that a family is taking pictures of Laurie with each of their three children. He keeps his distance and hangs back until they're gone, but they're soon replaced by new people who recognize her, followed by more, and then a few more, but she's gracious and kind and has the prettiest smile for everyone. He can't wait till it's for him.  
  
His old reusable shopping bag's kinda ragged so he hops back in line to buy a new one, and finally Laurie's alone, waiting by the checkouts with a white paper cup and rolling her eyes back in cartoon ecstasy like she's trying to suck the plastic off the spoon.  
  
"Hey, famous. What'd you get?"  
  
"Tiramisu, and it's so good."  
  
She feeds him a few tiny spoonfuls of it on the way home and they make up words to a Spanish radio station song that builds like The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly, and in the middle of their ridiculous singing Val gets a happy stab of pain in his eye. They're even better together than he remembers, and he gets another day and a half of it. He's forgotten how time spent with Laurie feels like going into a finale knowing he's already won.  
  
Once they're home she bullies him into a few tango steps through the kitchen and he pulls some of their old steps in a new direction, which she easily follows. "Careful, young lady," he warns. "We can't have you kicking over any of the collection."  
  
"Ha." She shoves him with both hands and turns her back, only to get dragged back and held a little too tight. Through the kitchen, the living room, and a brief pivot into the hallway, she's fighting him but always gives in at the last minute.  
  
He  _loves_ it. "I used to try get you worked up like this back when we were dancing and all I ever got was bullshit food metaphors." Pizza. Fucking _peanut butter!_  
  
"Well, I was younger then." Her leg jackknifes around his and he tips her back as far as she'll go. "And I loved you but wasn't _in_ love with you yet."  
  
He sweeps her back up. "You saying you are now?"  
  
"You know I am."  
  
"Good." She tastes like coffee and orange. "'Cause I'm in love with you, too."  
  
The dance continues around the rooms, carefully avoiding the bedroom until she nudges him there, and it becomes the same steps but slower. The backs of her legs touch the bed and Val suspects he's in trouble when she folds into a ludicrous backbend. "Oh my God. You're gonna eat me alive."  
  
She crawls back on her elbows. "You can handle it," she says, and opens her arms wide.  
  
They kiss and play and roll around in a way that reminds Val of being eighteen himself - not knowing how far he'll get and being grateful for whatever he's allowed. It's a lot more fun than he remembers, and he thinks of his old rules. Kiss big, but not all the time. Be sweet and kind both during and after, and only bring out Dmitry if the girl asks.  
  
A sly peek reveals that Laurie's bra is two shades of aqua with gold embroidery. It matches her nails.  
  
_She gift-wrapped herself for this._  
  
It's so serious he backs off, which makes her even more aggressive. She's all tongue and hands and starts pulling his shirt off, and he's excited and helpless and a little startled by it.

"You're sure about this," he says.  
  
"It's all I've thought about since summer," she says, and grabs Dmitry though his pants like they're old friends.  
  
"Oof."  
  
"Did that hurt?"  
  
"No. But I gotta tell you something I'm not proud of," he says, secure that her look of horror will be temporary. "I eavesdrop on girl talk whenever possible and a while back I heard that you're on Depo. Or at least you were."  
  
Relief spreads like sunshine after rain. "I still am."  
  
That's good. Because their clothes keep coming off and soon it's all warmth and bare skin. She seems raring to go and he ventures a hand between her legs, only instead of wet velvet he finds a wall of muscle.  
  
"Is something wrong?" It feels almost like a trampoline down there. "You're all clamped down."  
  
"It'll go away," she says, but it doesn't.  
  
"Has this ever happened before?"  
  
"No. Never." A ticklish and frightening thought occurs to him and Laurie knows it. "I've been, like...deflowered, so it's not that. I'm probably just nervous 'cause...you know. It's you."  
  
"Oh. Hmm."  
  
Something Val rarely gets credit for is being a master problem solver.  
  
He once fixed a toaster using a squashed bottlecap as a screwdriver, and he's going to figure this one out, too.  
  
He takes his hand away. "Relax and try not to think about it."  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong."  
  
"Doesn't matter. Think about gelato."  
  
He kisses a few places that've probably never been kissed, and the tip of his nose traces places important and others that aren't - her underarms, down the line of her spine, the silk-soft backs of her knees. "Are you thinking about it?"  
  
"Uh huh." Warm hands close around her feet and the tension slowly starts to fold itself away. She shivers when he drags his chin the length of her leg and his tongue paints Khokhloma circles around her breasts and down to her navel.  
  
He goes down on her after some fuss about it tickles and it's silly, and he senses a content disinterest. "Laurie."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Name all the kinds you can remember."  
  
"There was the kind I had, there was hazelnut..."  
  
He wraps a hand around her thigh and gives her the other to hold. "What else."  
  
"Vanilla, chocolate...strawberry. All the fruits, like peach, lemon...I wanna say they had fig." She gently runs a thumb over the back of his hand. "Mint."  
  
He tries another angle and a little more pressure.  
  
"Hmm. Espresso."  
  
Slowly, he feels her interest pull back around.  
  
"There was a white kind with Magic Shell splattered on it."  
  
It's definitely working, and Dmitry's dying for air. "I think that's straciatella."  
  
"Mmm. Say it again."  
  
"Straciatella. Stra-cia- _tell_ -a."  
  
"There was something that had pink peppercorns. Don't know what it was. Ooo. That's really nice."  
  
He keeps at it, working her until she's pulling his hair and moving against him, making the sweetest little sounds and mildly crushing his hand when he gets it right. Her legs tremble, and he suddenly rears up on his elbows and kisses the inside of her knee with a slick mouth and curls much messier than when they started. "It's not on the menu, but they'll make you one that's vanilla with sea salt and olive oil poured over it."  
  
"Mm. I'd try that."  
  
They're both relieved to find that their previous problem is gone, and after an invitation and a bit of discussion, he's on top of her and pushing his way in a little at a time. Laurie holds on tight and doesn't breathe, her eyes alternately wide or squeezed shut.  
  
"I can't believe it fits."  
  
It almost doesn't. "I can't believe we're doing this." Slow kisses and barely moving makes it a little easier, and once there's nowhere left to go he deftly swings her up on top and shivers at the view. Goddamn, there's so much muscle - his abs, her thighs...her sartorius muscle lines alone are enough to steal his breath away, and he grabs her hips and pulls down, finding a soft, slow roll that she loves.  
  
"Oh my _God."_  
  
"Feel good?"  
  
She nods. "Uh huh."  
  
"You're beautiful."  
  
"So are you." She looks down at all the muscle too and laughs. _We're really doing this._ Hair falls in her face and he reaches up to tuck it back...she stops and sucks his thumb, then bites it, and it's like an electric current straight to his core.  
  
"Fuck..."  
  
"You like that?"  
  
"I love it." She tastes his other fingers and bites the heel of his hand and pinches his nipples and for a moment he forgets who she is and who he is and just gets lost in how good it feels.  
  
His prelude must've been good because it sounds like she's halfway there, and it's beautiful when she completely lets loose and rides him almost like she's punishing him for something. He squeezes her waist and slips into Russian long enough to say some dirty stuff about warm honey and the only man that should ever fuck you is me, and she tightens and makes this sound and he's not sure but he thinks he's just made her come.  
  
"Did you...?" He pulls down on her and she yelps. "Yeah? Yeah?" Her voice wraps around him and somehow he's sure, he just knows he did, and he fucks up into her until he's tipping over the edge himself; it rips through him like lightning and he crushes her to his chest, breathing her name into her hair and letting go with a long, deep groan.  
  
His heart's still hammering in his ears when Laurie kisses him and slides off and onto her back, dragging a wet rope across his thigh. Whatever sound comes next will be magnified so Val tries to think of something good to say, like something she won't ever forget...but it's the nicest tingle to have her twirling one of his curls around her finger and he can't help but laze around in that for a while.  
  
"That was, like, perfect," she says. Her gentle tugging transfers to another curl and the tingle creeps all the way down his back. "Everyone says don't get your hopes up, but...yeah."  
  
He smiles against her skin. "What the hell's that mean?"  
  
All five fingers weave in. "I waited for you. Like...saved myself or whatever."  
  
"But you said..."  
  
"I broke my hymen on beam years ago. So...yeah."  
  
It's way too much and he deflates, overwhelmed.  
  
"I almost didn't tell you 'cause I didn't want you to cry. Don't. Please?"  
  
"You..." His voice quivers and burns so much he stops trying.  
  
"Val. Seriously." The upsetti spaghetti plea surfaces and a pillow becomes a soft, forgiving refuge until she takes it away. "Come on! Let's just have fun and be happy."    
  
He needs a hat to hide behind...or the pillow back, but she's thrown it on the floor. "I  _am_ happy."  
  
"Good. I am, too."  
  
He forces himself to look at her in her new state and decides that maybe he's changed forever, too. He swings up and out of bed and throws on minimal clothes. "I'll be right back."  
  
Now he's glad about the flowers, and he teases out the best little rosebuds to bring back to her in a water glass. It's so dumb to be so blindsided by all of this - he'd certainly thought of it, but why wasn't he ready for it? Memories of the best worst week come like a flood. _I wanna be good to you, for you, and make this a great, great experience for you. Always._ Had he? And what would a long table of judges have said? He'd more or less delivered a proper fuck, but had she felt loved?  
  
His bachelor pad's shortcomings are so obvious now: there's nothing alive here, not even a single houseplant and there's almost no color. Even a simple yellow wash on the walls would really help it look like a place he likes, not his west coast flophouse that means little more than extra big towels and good wifi.  
  
The tap flows in the bathroom and Laurie tiptoes in wearing his shirt down to her knees.  
  
"Get your ass back in bed, I'm trying to bring you flowers."  
  
"Carry on," she says, and turns around to watch him clip and arrange, then moves over to the fridge pictures.  
  
"I used to think kids were a probably, sometimes a maybe...but I don't think I could ever do it with you."  
  
"Yeah?" He's unwittingly tripped biological doomsday clocks in women before so it's good she's not planning one for tomorrow, but then...why would she say that? "Why not?  
  
"That kid would have so much hair. Just..." Cheeks puff and hands ripple out in an overhead explosion. "It wouldn't be fair."  
  
"You." A primitive part of his brain wants to take her back to bed and pound a kid with tortiseshell hazel eyes into her right now, even though he knows it isn't possible, and he pinches the spot above her knee that makes her howl but she flexes and stubbornly refuses to be tickled. Her eyes are wild, laughter simmering just below the surface.  
  
"Shouldn't you be making me dinner?"  
  
She screams when he lunges at her but all he does is lovingly kiss her cheek.

"I say after dinner we find an empty basketball court and see if your cha cha's loosened up any."

"I bet it has."

"I bet it has, too. And I wouldn't mind hitting a hardware store, if we see one."  
  
"Say it's not for duct tape and rope."  
  
"No, weirdo. I wanna paint the place. Not this weekend, but we could pick out some of those little color strips and you can help me decide."  
  
She smiles and hangs off his arm. "Ooo, couple stuff! Your life's over now, just so you know."  
  
"Whatever," he smiles, and doesn't care that he's probably blushing. "Anything you want to do?"  
  
"Yes." Her eyebrows raise. "You spent a lot of time figuring out what I like. So...maybe you could show me what you like."  
  
*

He wakes up the next morning and senses it's late. The clock says well after ten and he bites back a groan because there's a lot to do and all he wants to do is sink back down and close his eyes.

They'd been up late, not necessarily having sex for all of it but reluctant to part with each other, even to sleep. Laurie's nestled on her side and it's a shame to bother her. "Laurie. Sweetheart, we gotta get up."

She stirs, and it's so pretty to get a flash of her eyes. "No. I hurt everywhere."

He's raw and oversensitive himself. "We're gonna miss Erin if we don't get going."

She drags herself up for a shower, and Val automatically strips the bed and starts laundry, forgetting that it'll fuck up the water pressure.

_Shit._

There's barely enough hot water for his own shower and he's got a slight headache since usually he'd have breakfast and three cups of tea by now. Still, they somehow get it together in time to meet Erin at noon.

Laurie flips down the visor mirror on the way. "My hair looks frizzy and horrible and my chin hurts. I think your beard scratched up my face."

"I'll get rid of it if you want."

"No." she flips the visor back up and sighs. "Sorry if I'm grouchy. I don't know what it is but I feel kind of off today."

She isn't off when she sees Erin at the restaurant, and they hug and scream and sing like the old days. "Take our picture!" Laurie insists, and Val does as he's told and she posts them with sweet, sentimental blurbs about missing her ABC fam. Val declines being in any of the pictures because he's sure that's what Laurie wants, but maybe it's for the best. There's probably some giveaway glint in his eye, though Erin doesn't seem to know.  
  
"So what's on tap for the rest of your stay? Are you guys hanging out more or what?"  
  
"Just for a little while this afternoon," Laurie says firmly. "That's all."  
  
"Yeah," Val says. "I found a place with a bounce floor and I'm gonna throw her around."  
  
"Oh yeah? Like, just randomly, or..."  
  
"No, I got a dance for it. You know Caro Emerald's Liquid Lunch?"  
  
"Yeah! That's such a great song."  
.  
"Huh," Laurie says quietly. "I don't know it."  
  
"Probably 'cause you're way too young," Erin says. "But you'd love it. You know what other song you'd like of hers is That Man. It's basically a song about Val."  
  
"Nah."  
  
"Oh, come on. A little Gable, some Astaire? When he dances I can hardly breathe? Ooo that man is like a flame! Ooo that man plays me like a game! My only sin is I can't win, ooo I wanna love that man!"  
  
Val's so relieved when she stops. "Naah."  
  
"Yaah. Laurie, you should listen to it and after you do you can tell him how wrong he is."  
  
The subject mercifully dies and they all share a slab of tres leches for dessert and part ways in a flurry of hugs. Laurie's a little quiet on the way home, but Val assumes she's just tired. He sure as hell is.

"It's kinda scary how easy you made up that stuff about the spring floor."  
  
"It's not made up. I had one reserved at three but it was part of a bigger complex and they couldn't guarantee total privacy. I cancelled it while you were with your grocery store fan club."  
  
 "Oh. You know I wish it wasn't like this," she says, and he stops himself from saying it doesn't have to be. Don't you think people would be happy for us, he wants to say, but then...he's thought that before.  
  
"Can we please swing by the hotel? I want to check the phone."  
  
"You mean the land-line?"  
  
"Yeah."

That's weird. "Why?"

"Just in case anybody called."  
  
Who would, though? "I'll come up with you," he offers once they're there; he's still half curious about the room, but she shuts him down.  
  
"No thanks. I'll be right back."  
  
He chalks it up to her odd need for privacy and watches her walk away. They're both a little owly and he thinks nap might be in order; lunch had been carb-heavy and it'd be so good to just stretch out with her with no schedule or plan.  
  
She's gone so long the valet starts giving him looks.  
  
He calls Maks out of boredom, and wanting to feel grounded. He answers; Val strains to hear Shai in the background and is delighted to hear him alternately hollering and singing _"NO!"_  
  
"Hey, it's me. What you doing?"  
  
"Arguing with a toddler."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Carrots. He wants a whole baby carrot that crunches, and I'm telling him he's either got to have it cooked and soft or crunchy and cut up and he's not having it. Peta's out for a couple hours and I'm losing this battle like you can't believe and she's only been gone twenty minutes." He sighs but Val senses he's smiling.  
  
"Lemme talk to him."  
  
"Okay, but it's useless. Here," he says. "Talk to uncle Val."  
  
"Button. You gotta be good and listen to your papa."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No!" A heavy clunk means the phone's been thrown on the hardwood.  
  
"Shai, please." Maks is suddenly back on the line. "See? This is my life now. Okay, I'm going in the other room and you need to be quiet and give papa two minutes and we'll fight about carrots some more." There's much less of a smile in his voice now and a whoosh of air means he's sat down. "What are you up to?"  
  
"Hanging out with Laurie."  
  
"Oh yeah? How's she?"  
  
"She's great." He swallows hard. "She came down to spend the weekend, and..." _A problem shared is a problem halved._ "I'm in love with her."  
  
Maks says nothing. For almost ever. "Does she know?"  
  
"Yeah. Pretty sure she knows."  
  
"Does anyone else?"  
  
"No. Just you."  
  
"She love you back? And before this discussion goes any further please tell me she's eighteen now."  
  
"She is. And she does."  
  
"Good."  
  
"So anyways..." The glass of the entrance flashes sunlight in his eyes and it's Laurie. "I gotta go. I'll call you later."  
  
She's got a huge chocolate chip cookie but doesn't look happy. "Want some?"  
  
"Yeah, break me off a piece. That's not a metaphor, by the way," he says, but she doesn't laugh.

"You can have the whole thing."  
  
He gladly accepts and drives one-handed until it's gone. Laurie's looking out the window so hard he can't see any part of her face, only her hair. "Are you okay?"  
  
"My mom sent me cookies and milk last night. But, wasn't there to get them, so..."  
  
A chill taps his spine.  
  
"I called her and took care of it, sort of. But I still feel terrible."  
  
"Is she upset?"  
  
"I kinda don't want to talk about it."  
  
"We can stay there tonight," he offers. "Or you can stay without me and I'll swing by and take you to the airport in the morning. Whatever you want to do, we'll do."  
  
Laurie nods and turns again so he can't really see her. She bottles stuff up; he knows that, but he also remembers being in her place years ago - feeling grown up but knowing he wasn't and worried about being judged, by the girls he was messing around with, by his parents, by everyone.  
  
Traffic home is long ropes of red taillights and it sucks to be stuck, both on the interstate and at this uncomfortable stalemate. "I hope there isn't a wreck up ahead," Laurie says, and closes her eyes; Val suspects she's praying and thinks a quick one himself with a couple of selfish wishes folded in. He can't think of anything to say, so he just keeps his right hand on her at all times, on her knee or pressing his thumb into her shoulder looking for tender spots.  
  
At home he tries to nudge her into a waltz but they're out of synch, like it's week two with a partner he hasn't quite clicked with. He's never seen this mood last this long and doesn't ask when she starts texting. He gets out the spare sheets out and starts making the bed, and Laurie's suddenly there pulling down the corner opposite him.  
  
Her eyes are much bigger, rounder, and sadder that they should be. "Laurie, come on. We should talk about this."  
  
"I can't. I'm about to cry and it hurts. You talk."  
  
"Okay. Come here." He lays back on the half-made bed and pulls her into the spot next to him. She's right; talking is hard. "I know you're upset. I've been there too and I get it, but there's so much good between us, right? No one can argue with that."  
  
He repeats it in his mother tongue and stops speaking English altogether, hiding behind the coy safety of it because he's nervous for tomorrow and every day after, until this thing of theirs has a name and feels as solid as a hug from his father.  
  
His thumb runs over her forearm. "I'm thinking about taking next season off. Put more time into Dance With Me. We'd both be busy but at least we'd be closer."  
  
Laurie answers as if she understood what he said. "That sounds nice."  
  
"I'll be home next month, too. It's too busy to dance in the Metropolitan but we could still try, and I wanna see if you like the vintage linoleum in my apartment. My brother says it should've been ripped out twenty years ago but I love it, and if you do too it's a good test of whether we have any future together. You'll like the bed, too. It feels hard at first but it's the best sleep you'll ever have."  
  
She understood none of it but says, "Hmm."  
  
"And we gotta find a way to spend New Year's together. Maks wants to have a party so you could meet Shai." He realizes something as it's spoken. "I'm not as impatient for kids as I used to be. Peta keeps having dreams that they'll have a daughter by the end of next year, so that'll keep me busy for a decade at least. I know we haven't talked about it, but I'm fully aware that eighteen's a lot different than thirty two, and I feel like we'll be okay, you know? I'm not worried. You said you waited for me, and...I don't know. Maybe I've been waiting for you, too."  
  
Laurie's silent.  
  
"Anyway, about New Year's. If they have a party I doubt we can get away with no pictures but we could try. And it's not like I'd stick my tongue down your throat in front of everybody."  
  
She curls up into him and sighs.  
  
"I wanna see you all the time. I want to love you and make you happy."  
  
She's warm and close and he's ten steps toward falling into a nap when a rough sniffle pulls him back. She's crying.  
  
He reverts to English. "Talk to me. Please."  
  
"I'm sorry. It's just...my family won't be okay with this."  
  
"But they love me."  
  
"They wouldn't if they knew. Nobody knows about any of this."  
  
He props himself up on an elbow. "Is it my age? 'Cause I'm very immature." She barely smiles and he nudges her chin up with a finger. "We can keep on like we have. Keep it secret, see each other when we can."  
  
"I love you. Like so much, but...I can't lie to them."  
  
It's so uncharted it feels like falling; he sits up and sounds angrier than he means to. "Did you lie to come here this weekend?"  
  
Huge tears spill out as she nods. "I said there were talks about an all-star season. I thought I was so smart for that...and I wouldn't take back anything with you but I shouldn't have lied. Nothing good can come from it."  
  
Eyes sting like lemon and his heart feels like it could crack. "Laurie, no. This started honest and it started a long time ago."  
  
"I know, but you're almost twice my age. Think about it. Like...I can't sell that. They don't mind if I date boys but this weekend was way beyond dating a boy and I don't want to upset them. Or you."  
  
"Or you," he adds, but she won't look at him. "I think being scared makes everything feel worse than it really is. But you shouldn't be 'cause this is so, so good."  
  
She collects herself and tries to re-set her composure. "You're gonna have to be patient with me."  
  
"That's fine. I will." She relaxes slightly and he examines her little hands, the perfect nails, and tenderly kisses her palm. "Maybe you could say that we met up. Had dinner together and...something between us felt different. See what they say. All of that's true, right?"  
  
Laurie nods. "Yeah. I like that." She sits up and brushes more stray tears from her eyes and Val flicks off one of his own.  
  
"We've only got eighteen hours left. Maybe we should make it a goal to keep crying to a minimum."  
  
 "That reminds me. We should check the mailbox 'cause I sent us mail."

"What'd you send us?"

"A card that says have fun and don't cry Monday morning when I have to leave."

"Well I can't promise anything." It's a struggle not to sulk, but he's determined to pull out of this mood and save what's left of their weekend. Where to start...

"Hey, I know what would cheer us up," Laurie says with a subtle lift. "Maybe we could think about gelato."

Val recedes back into his ownself, the problem-solver. "It'd be a lot easier to think about it if we had some."  
  
"Yeah. Let's go right now!"  
  
"But what if somebody sees us and it's all over Instagram?"  
  
"I think it's okay. But you know, don't stick your hand up my shirt or anything."  
  
"Fuck, okay. Let's go."

She fixes her makeup while he finishes making the bed, and she comes away from the mirror even more beautiful, somehow.  
  
"I love you, okay?" he says. "And I'm not worried at all. We'll figure it out."  
  
Those eyes. That smile. "I know we will."

On their way out, he picks her up in the hallway and sets her back down, waiting a moment so she can walk beside him, not behind.


End file.
